The Post-Apocalyptic Glass Slipper
by Emerald Kitten
Summary: Daryl finds something tangled in the folds of his poncho that has no right being there. How will he deal with finding this mystery item? This is a Caryl Operation Levity idea that got way out of control. Second chapter involves a conversation with Beth but this is not a Bethyl story.
1. Chapter 1

They were living on top of each other, that was the damn problem now that society had ended and the world had gone straight to hell. Privacy was a luxury of the past, something that existed only in the memories of the survivors of days past. It was just another facet of history that was destined to fade away into non-existence like TV, cell phones and overpriced coffee shops that had populated every other street corner.

Daryl had been sitting in his cell and minding his own business, just trying to get a minute of quiet. The new additions of the Woodbury folks were making for cramped quarters now more than ever. The winter they'd all spent on the road together after the fall of the Greene farm had forced the once withdrawn man to adapt to living in closer quarters than he'd previously been exposed to before the dead started walking around the Earth. Back when it was just him and Merle drifting from place to place the Dixon's didn't have to worry about their person space being invaded. Whether they were from the right or wrong side of the tracks, people had instinctively known to give a wide berth to the pair of men.

Word always got around about the illustrious Dixon brothers whenever they rolled into a new town. It had been both a curse and a blessing. The downside had been people never gave Daryl a chance to be more than just a redneck piece of trash. The upside was that he never had to deal with anyone getting too close to him before.

Now that the former Woodbury residents were calling the prison their home Daryl didn't have that same luxury. The additions of new survivors arriving every week added to the number of people always trying to cosy up to the hunter. Rick, Glenn and Daryl had all been equally responsible for picking up stray's and offering them sanctuary behind the prison fences but for some reason the Woodbury people and the other survivors had attached themselves to the only surviving Dixon like barnacles latched onto the hull of a ship. Daryl couldn't take two steps without someone calling out for his immediate attention or yammering something in his ear about how thankful they were for the latest deer he'd managed to bag on a successful hunt.

He didn't do it for the attention. People had to band together now to survive, that was all. Safety in numbers. Didn't mean they had to hang off him like groupies. He wasn't used to that sort of attention. Merle would have been in his element, basking in the glow of the spotlight but that shit wasn't for Daryl. He was happy to live in the shadows. So long as his new adopted family survived to live another day that was enough for him.

He'd managed to steal away from the ruckus downstairs and catch a brief moment alone in his cell. When he'd lifted up the sheet and stepped over the threshold the first thing he'd noticed was a freshly laundered pile of clothing neatly folded on the foot of his bunk. When he'd set out that morning his clothes had been left rumpled on the floor where he'd thrown them the night before. There was no need as far as he was concerned to keep his cell looking like a slice of suburbia. No matter which way you dressed it up the group was still calling a prison their home. Only difference was this was the first time in history a Dixon was staying in the big house of his own free will. One person strived to make the place more liveable though: Carol. She was always doing things to make the cells seem more like a home and less like a cage.

Daryl knew without a doubt that she had been the one to gather his clothing and go to the trouble of cleaning it. No-one else was damn fool enough to try and mess with anything of his. He never saw the point of doing laundry; it was just going to get dirty again so why waste time washing something that was just going to get covered in filth five minutes later?

Her thinking to pick after him was nice but it did come with one downside; Daryl could never find half his stuff once Carol had cleaned.

If he left something on the ground in the morning at least he knew where it would be come nightfall. When Carol got in one of her cleaning moods there was no telling where he'd find any of his belongings.

The first time Carol ventured into his cell to spring clean Daryl hadn't been able to find his lighter for a week. Apparently the shelf on his old perch had been the logical place for the woman to put the small silver piece of metal. Turned out the case of the missing lighter was a half-assed attempt to make him quit smoking. For the life of him Daryl couldn't work out why she even bothered with that one. Soon enough whatever tobacco was left in Georgia would be a memory just like those overpriced coffee shops that were now just a ghost of the past.

The woman was stubborn though, he had to give her that. No matter how many times he tried to tell her she didn't need to worry about him she just went on doing what she was intent on doing. Washing his clothes and making sure he always had a plate come dinner time. It was nice change of pace from what he was used to. Before the world went to shit there hadn't been too many people who'd cared about him at all, but nice or not that didn't change the fact he could never find half his shit when he wanted it.

Another glance around his cell confirmed that his poncho that had been conveniently tossed on the top bunk late last night when he'd come in from watch was now no longer there. Winter was fast approaching and that poncho had become his new best friend during the midnight rotations he'd been handed for the upcoming week.

Looked like Carol decided the ratty old saddle blanket had been due for a wash.

With a sigh Daryl bent down and started sorting through the laundry in search of the poncho. Now was as good a time as any to see if Carol had allowed it back into his cell. Hopefully it wasn't one of those things she decided to store somewhere else for 'safekeeping'.

He was half-way through the meagre stack when he finally found the object of his search. The slight scent of lemons filled the small room when he lift the folded item from the pile. Where the woman managed to find lemon scented laundry powder in a county pen he didn't know, but despite his aversion to clean clothing he was thankful Carol had taken the time to do this for him. She really did everything in her power to make them all as comfortable as possible at the end of the world. First person to give a shit about him at all beside Merle was Carol. He'd thought about it many nights while they were all stuck out on the road and he'd never been able to work out why the woman wasted her time on him when no-one else had ever given him the time of day before.

He wouldn't admit to himself just how many nights he'd fallen asleep trying to decipher the mystery of that woman. In his former life it had been unheard of for someone to give so much without expecting anything back, but that's exactly who Carol was. She gave and gave and asked nothing for her troubles. She offered him friendship when no one else had ever tried to just be there for him. At first he'd suspected it was just because she'd lost Sophia but as time wore on he realized there was more to it than just gratitude to her thoughtful gestures. More and more he found himself seeking her out.

At the end of the world he had found a real friend. It nice knowing someone always had your back regardless of the situation. He trusted every member of his new family but with Carol it was…different. They seemed to share a bond that went further than mere trust.

Something stuck within the neck of the poncho caught his eye, interrupting his thoughts about the mystery of Carol and why she always had time for him. Whatever it was certainly didn't belong there; the former saddle blanket didn't have any blue threads on it last time he'd checked. Daryl gave the garment a sharp shake in an effort to dislodge what was wedged inside the tattered fabric.

Despite his best effort whatever was stuck in there wouldn't budge. Daryl whipped the poncho around more vigorously, sending the scent of lemons out across the enclosed room. With one final shake the offending article was let loose and went flying up in the air before falling to the floor in the far side of the cell.

He took a tentative step towards whatever the hell was now sitting in the corner of the concrete room. It was bright blue and small, no bigger than the red rag he always kept in his back pocket. The closer he drew to the mystery item didn't seem to make an ounce of difference though in revealing what it actually was; nothing he owned was that bright shade of blue. The problem with living on top of each other like they were doing was that everybody's shit got mixed up with everybody else's. Not that any of them had much left to lay claim to. Daryl himself only had a couple of pairs of pants and a few shirts, but when he caught sight of the tiny scrap of fabric as it landed he knew without a doubt it wasn't his.

He bent over and snatched it up with the intension of finding out what the hell it was and who the hell it belonged to. Daryl turned the item over in his hands, smoothing the bunched fabric as he moved. Bright blue with small white stars dotting every which way and a yellow 'WW' printed boldly across the front...

With a start Daryl dropped the tiny piece of fabric like it was on fire. The blue fluttered down to land on the middle of his bunk, taunting him with its mere existence. The hand previously holding the offending item felt like he'd just dipped it in acid he knew the heat rapidly spreading across his face would be the worst kind of blush imaginable; that of instant embarrassment. He knew damn well what the fabric was but he had no idea how it'd landed up in his stack of laundry. He also had no idea how he was supposed to go about getting it back to its rightful owner, whoever that was.

Lying on the middle of his unmade bunk was a pair of panties. Bright blue, very small sized Wonder Woman panties to be exact. He recognised the distinctive logo the moment he laid eyes on it. When he'd been a kid he'd spent hours of his summer vacation watching Wonder Woman as she spun around and around on TV, catching Nazi's with that golden lasso…

He'd really liked it when she span around like that. That made his day when he was a kid.

His face went red with embarrassment instantly, thinking that his calloused hands had been holding onto-

Shit! Hershel would have his hide if he knew Daryl had those in his procession…on his bed no less! Accident or not, there was no way a father wanted his daughters' unmentionables in the hands of a no-good redneck like him. If she was Daryl's daughter he'd shoot first and ask questions later if a man ever set about returning a piece of underwear. The old _'found these in my room by accident'_ sounded like a bullshit excuse for having that item in your possession in the first place.

The panties had to belong to Beth. That's all there was too it. She was the only kid at the prison those tiny-looking things would fit. Wonder Woman was the sort of thing a teenage girl would be wearing, right? End of the world or not, he'd seen Beth wear some damned stupid looking things as part of her wardrobe. All the other women living at the prison would be too old for that sort of shit, wouldn't they?

The underwear had to belong to Beth; there was no question about it. Carol must have taken some of the younger Greene's laundry to do as well that morning and gotten it mixed up with his by accident. It wasn't in Carol's nature to play this sort of a prank on him. Sure she liked to tease him and push the boundaries but Daryl knew she would never do something as downright underhanded as sneaking Beth's unmentionables in with his laundry just for her own amusement.

The blush on his face threatened to intensify, thinking about having to track Beth down and hand over the skimpy piece of cloth that apparently passed as underwear.

Daryl eyed the bright blue sitting on the middle of his mattress. The damned things taunted him like a snake poised to strike. Having a pair of Beth's panties in his possession was a nothing short of a venomous situation that was for sure. And it wasn't just the old man he had to worry about neither; Maggie had one hell of an Irish temper on her and Daryl did not want to get on that woman's bad side.

He'd seen her swing a blade at a walker's head. He could only imagine what part of him the woman decide needed to be lopped off if it crossed her mind that her baby sister had been knocking boots with someone like him.

As embarrassing as the situation was he couldn't seem to bring himself to move forward and get rid of the magnet for trouble. Daryl stood frozen to the spot, watching the panties that were now settled on his bunk. The longer he stared at them brighter they seemed to become until he was certain that the damned things were practically glowing in the darkness of the poorly lit cell.

He admitted to being a lot of things, but one thing Daryl Dixon never expected to be was scared shitless by a pair of Wonder Woman panties.

Looked like his moment of peace wasn't going to last after all.

"Don't be such a pussy," he said, working up the balls to just lean down and snatch the underwear up. He paced back and forth across the enclosed space, keeping his eyes firmly on the space inhabited by something that most definitely did not belong there.

If Merle had of still been alive he would have had a field day watching his baby brother pussy-foot his way around some cartoon underwear. Daryl could just hear that mocking drawl in his head now, _'Look at ya Darlina, scared of a pair o' panties like a damned pansy. Though you was only scared of what's hidden underneath drawers like that!'_

"Shut up jackass," Daryl muttered under his breath. Merle had always given Daryl shit about how shy he was with women and apparently even death wasn't enough to silence his brother's taunting voice.

_'Come on son…they ain't gonna bite,'_ Merle mocked inside Daryl's head again.

The memory of his older brother's cackling laughter was enough to break Daryl out of his holding pattern and finally make a move forward. With a crack of his knuckles the redneck swooped down and scooped the panties up, balling them tightly in his fist. He didn't want to anyone to catch a glimpse of the cargo he was delivering back to Beth.

Bracing himself, Daryl stepped out of his cell and cast a quick glance left and right glance down the empty walkway before he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and set up in search of the youngest Greene daughter.

Daryl just prayed that the girl wasn't with her father when he found her. Embarrassment aside, her old man was a decent shot and now that Hershel had an artificial leg he'd be harder to outrun then when he was on crutches.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. This started out as a little something to write while I was on a plane, purely because all my other WIP seem to be at smutty/sensual points in the story and I needed something I could concentrate on that I wouldn't be worried about people reading over my shoulder mid-flight. Plus I happened to be seated next to some children and I didn't want them reading anything like that by accident (you know how curious kids can be). This was only going to be a tiny piece (my offering for Operation Levity) but it kept growing and growing so I decided to break it into several chapters to make it more assessable. There was also three breaks in the story that easily translated into separate chapters.**

**Hope you join me for future chapters Daryl and his search for the Wonder Woman fan.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter involves a strictly platonic conversation between Beth and Daryl. Please do not take this as hate toward the Bethyl ship because it was not written with that intention. Live and let sail to all I say! I do not tolerate Beth hate so if you're not a fan of the character I recommend skipping this chapter. This is a Caryl story first and foremost.**

Daryl's first stop had been Beth's cell but she hadn't been inside. Briefly he thought about just tossing the balled up fabric in his fist into a draw and storming out again but the idea of barrelling into her personal space and intruding just didn't sit right with him, not considering he valued his own privacy so much. It was hard enough to get a minute of solitude anymore; he just didn't feel right about bursting into her room uninvited and turning the place over just to find a home for the item in his hand.

It would just be too damn creepy going through the youngest Greene's belongings like that; it was too much of an intrusion. Not to mention pulling a stunt like that was got some guys thrown in the clink in the first place before the world went to shit.

With a huff Daryl stepped away from her cell door and started going over other possible locations where Beth might be at. The girl had been spending time with that new kid Zack the last few days… maybe they were getting cosy in a quiet corner somewhere. As embarrassed as the redneck had been to find a pair of Beth's underwear in his possession he did NOT want to catch those two kids fooling around. Walking in on the pair of them in a compromising position would be a whole new level of embarrassment.

Plus, if he found the two of them together he might just have to kick Zack's ass. Beth Greene was like a sister to him, and no man wanted to see his sister getting felt-up by some horny teenager.

The faint sound Beth singing carried across the cells from down in the direction of the mess hall, announcing just where exactly she had disappeared to. Beth always liked entertaining Ass-Kicker with country music and judging by the sounds of Judith's gurgling laughter punctuating the younger Greene's solo that's exactly what Beth was doing right at that moment. Daryl would never admit it but hearing that girl sing was heartbreaking. It reminded him just how much the world had changed since The Turn. How much would never be the same again, ever.

As nostalgic as the song was the sound also angered the redneck. Who did Beth think she was, singing like everything was okay in the world when it sure as shit wasn't? And why was she so damned happy when _he_ was the one having to chase around the prison searching for her like some dry-cleaning delivery service?

Daryl stomped through the doorway of the mess hall, his eyes darting around until they landed on the back of the blonde's head. Despite the noise of his heavy footfalls Beth continued to keep her back to him, instead focusing on the camp stove burner tucked away in the far corner. Judith sat on the floor nearby in the makeshift playpen constructed between several chairs and a roll of wire, happily distracted by a couple of red plastic cups she was using as toys. The sight of the kid playing with a stack of red cups made Daryl smirk. At least that was one thing from the old way of life that hadn't changed; a kid making a toy out of something that was never meant to be played with like that.

The redneck came to a stop a few feet behind Beth, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. That was the one good thing about so many newcomers at the prison; they generally stopped whatever the hell they were doing when Daryl set foot in the room. His adopted family, not so much.

Again Daryl felt the sting of this new world as both a blessing and a curse. He gave it a good thirty seconds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, making a point to make as much noise as possible with each movement. When it became apparent Beth hadn't noticed his hulking form standing behind her Daryl decided on a less subtle approach; he cleared his throat. Loudly.

No way could she ignore a sound like that.

The loud rumble from his throat did the trick and managed to catch the attentions of both girls in the room. A gurgle of laughter floated up from the floor; signally that Asskicker had caught sight of her Uncle Daryl. He waved the hand not clutching the panties towards the child and her face lit up in response before returning her attention to the plastic cups scattered around her feet. Beth cast a glance over her shoulder, letting her eyes drift from the baby on the floor to the man standing behind her.

"Hey Daryl , what's up?" she threw his way before swivelling her head back to the camp stove and the pot bubbling away on top of the lit burner.

He could believe what he was hearing. What's up? What's up! How the hell could she be so calm about shit when he was standing there holding something in his hand that if Hershel got wind of could lead to the former veterinarian potentially castrating the only surviving Dixon?

"Daryl?" Beth asked, turning away from the simmering pot to finally face him. "What's going on? Are you ok?" The blonde leant closer and cast a scrutinizing gaze over his face. "You don't look so good. You comin' down with something?"

He could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead. The only thing wrong with him was an extreme case of embarrassment. The tiny blue item balled up in his hand felt like it was burning a hole clear through the skin of his palm. Over the last year everyone in the group had lost something that had been miraculously found at a later stage tucked inside someone else's pack, but there was a big difference between finding a bag of Rick's M&M's in the saddlebags of the bike and finding a pair of teenaged girls' underwear amongst his laundry.

Merle really would be having a field day if he knew the situation Daryl was dealing with now. The older Dixon would have been as happy as a pig in shit watching his younger brother sweat through something like this.

Suddenly seeking out Beth to hand-deliver the blue cargo didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. He should have thrown the panties in her cell and not thought about the laundry mix-up again. That was what a smart man would have done.

Before he could regret the decision Daryl released his grip on the underwear in his hand and tossed them at the young blonde girl standing in front of him. "Found these in my laundry. Carol must have mixed 'em up."

Beth easily caught the flying item and looked down at it, turning it over in her hands. Daryl took the opportunity to turn on his heel and flee the area but Beth's voice halted him mid-step.

"They ain't mine," Beth called out.

He spun back around to face the youngest Greene. She was standing there, casually holding the underwear out to him like it was nothing to be ashamed about.

"What the hell you mean they ain't yours?" Daryl huffed with shock. Those panties only looked big enough to fit someone with a small behind, and she was the only young girl at the prison without counting the little leaguers that had moved in from Woodbury.

The youngest Greene shrugged her shoulders. "They ain't mine," she casually repeated. Beth's face scrunched up and she brought the scrap of cloth back towards her for closer inspection. She turned the fabric of in her hands, scrutinizing it with an observant eye. "Not my size, I wear one down from this." She held them back out before her again, urging him to take them back. "They're really cute though," she added with a bright smile.

Who the fuck cared if the damned things were cute? If they weren't her size that meant they had to belong to one of the women and not the children of the prison. It had been bad enough working up to the task of hunting down Beth to return the ownerless item, and now she was telling him the damned things weren't even hers? That meant he'd have to single out every woman in the joint and go through the embarrassing process again of asking whose panties they were. If they weren't hers then who the hell owned them?

Worse still, the way gossip travelled 'round everyone would know by sundown that Daryl Dixon had found a miscellaneous pair of women's underwear in his cell that he couldn't name the owner of.

Carol would tease the shit out of him for this…Glenn too if he caught wind of it.

"They Maggie's?" he asked finally, feeling his face burn at the question.

"How would I know?" Beth answered with a hint of annoyance.

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other but refused to reach out and take back the garment Beth was still brandishing like a baton. "You're sisters, ain't you? You know that sort of stuff."

"Just 'cause we're sisters doesn't mean I know what panties she wears." The teenager shrugged as she spoke before letting her outstretched hand fall back down to her side. A teasing smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. "You wanna know what panties Maggie's got you'd better go ask Glenn."

"I ain't askin' Glenn that sort of shit!" Daryl felt his face burn even hotter at the thought of chasing after Glenn just to ask him what sort of underwear his wife got around in. A question like that was the sort of thing that earned you a sock to the jaw from the husband and a knee to the balls from the wife.

"Well I can't tell you who owns them. It's not like anyone's sewn their name inside." Beth signed impatiently and shook the underwear in his direction again. "Well go on, take 'em. They won't bite."

From the way those damned things made him feel Daryl would have preferred if they grew teeth and snapped at him; it would have been safer. He never thought he'd see the day when a wisp of a girl who barely weighed a buck soaking wet would unintentionally sound exactly like this deceased asshole brother.

It seemed like this new world made an asshole out of everybody now.

"Can't you find out who's they are?" he whined. Last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day asking every female in the prison if she was a Wonder Woman fan. He had enough trouble getting the Woodbury people to leave him the hell alone. If he had to strike up a conversation with every last one of them in his quest to locate the owner of the underwear he'd never get a moments peace again. Shit, some of the women could even take it the wrong way and not get offended; they could think he was hitting on them.

Beth cocked out her hip and fixed him with an icy stare. "And why would I do that?" she asked in a voice steely.

Daryl felt the tips of his ears burning again. He shrugged, letting his gaze fall instead to the ground. It was safer to stare at the concrete beneath his feet than meet the challenging stare Beth was sending his way.

It did not make him a pussy that he wouldn't answer a teenage girls' question. It made him a smart man with a god sense of self-preservation. Merle had never known when to shut his mouth but that was one skill Daryl had learnt at a very young age.

"Don't you shrug at me Daryl Dixon," she chided. Seemed like the youngest Greene had a bit of the Irish temper too. "Now you tell me why you can't go find out who these," she shook the bright blue fabric like a pom-pom in front of her chest, "belong to?"

The bright color hanging in mid-air taunted the redneck. He let his gaze flicker between the girl and the undergarment, deciding exactly what his next course of action could be. He'd asked Beth nicely to take over the search for the owner…well, as nicely as a Dixon could ask for a favour.

The thought of just hightailing it out of there crossed his mind too. Beth was stuck there cooking and looking after Asskicker after all; it wasn't like she could catch him if he took off. Daryl could leave the prison and say he was going out on a hunt; dump the problem in Beth's hands and be free of it completely.

He was just about to turn and do exactly that when the sound of Hershel's voice wafted in from the direction of the courtyard doorway. The volume of the voice consistently increased, indicating that the old man was headed their way. Daryl jumped forward and snatched the clothing from Beth's still outstretched hand, surprising the girl in the process.

The last thing Daryl needed was a conversation about why he was standing in a room alone with the old man's teenage daughter and a pair of girls panties between them. Even if they didn't belong to the youngest Greene he didn't need Hershel to give him shit over this too.

"Fine!" With an annoyed grunt he shoved the blue into his back pocket before he stormed towards the door leading out of the mess hall.

"Hey Daryl," Beth called out, halting him in his tracks once more. "If I see Maggie you want to me to ask her what panties she's wearin'?"

The sound of Beth's assumed giggles followed Daryl as he stormed out of the room.

This was just fucking fantastic. Now he had to go traipsing 'round the prison, trying to find the woman who owned the underwear wedged in his back pocket. A twisted version of Cinderella loomed before him, but instead of finding the foot that fit the glass slipper he was looking for the ass that fit the Wonder Woman panties.

This shit was seriously fucked up.

This was the sort of situation Merle would have leapt at to be a part of. Not that Merle usually bothered to learn a chick's name before her panties hit his bedroom floor, but the prospect of questioning every woman in a five mile radius about what she wore under her clothing was definitely something that would have held Merle's interest.

For the next hour Daryl sulked around the prison, trying to be as covert as possible as he investigated who the owner could be of the cargo in his back pocket. The main problem lay with the fact that the majority of the women he knew had gone out on a quick run during the early afternoon, scavenging for anything still usable from the burnt-out remains of Woodbury. Maggie, Michonne and Carol had all gone on the crew, along with Glenn and Tyreese. It was embarrassing enough to try and discuss the situation with Beth; there was no way Daryl was going to actively seeking out the women left at the prison that he barely knew just to ask if any of them fit into the briefs he was carting around like some post-apocalyptic glass slipper.

Unless he wanted to spend the next few hours acquainting himself with the newer residents of the prison there was only one thing to do; wait until the group got back and ask Carol if she could return the panties to their rightful owner. The thought of broaching the subject with the woman was daunting enough, considering the delight she took in teasing him but it was a far better solution than repeating the exchange he'd just had with Beth with ten other women he barely knew.

**A/N: There's one more chapter to this and then we'll be done.** **I meant no disrespect towards the Bethyl ship, but in my mind here Daryl thinks of her as too young to be of romantic/sexual interest. I believe every ship should have the right to sail, so please don't think this was written as a dig at any anyone else. I actually like Beth as a character and her interaction with Daryl this season had been an interesting character development for her. As I mentioned in the Chapter 1 A/N, this was just an Operation Levity offering. The reason it grew into this fic is purely because the first words of dialogue I heard in my head were "They ain't mine," from Beth. So this fic was actually all Beth's doing!**

**Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites. They really do make my day!**


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl had been on his watch rotation for the better part of an hour as far as he could guess; it wasn't like there was a need to punch a timecard since the world went to shit. His shift hadn't meant to start until much later in the evening but the group on the Woodbury run still hadn't returned yet, leaving them shorthanded and him pulling a double. The situation wasn't that bad though. The tower was far enough away from the prison that he was able to get some distance from the new fuckers constantly shadowing his every move and finally enjoy a few rare hours of solitude.

It had been near impossible thanks to the new fan club shadowing his every move to try and track down the owner of the bright blue fabric still wedged in his back pocket. Even though he'd resolved to ask for Carol's help once she returned from the run his mind wouldn't let up as to who the mysterious owner could be. His stint on watch had been the first moment of peace he'd felt all day; between the embarrassing conversation with Beth and the audience that seemed to follow his every move the extra watch shift had been a welcome distraction.

All he'd wanted was a few hours of quiet, but that had been shot to hell courtesy of some Wonder Woman fan with a deceptively small ass. The only good thing to come of the day was that he was finally getting some quiet time thanks to the run returning later than expected.

He wasn't worried that the group wasn't back. A few hours was nothing to be concerned about just yet, but even so he kept his sights firmly set on the dirt track leading into the prison, waiting for the familiar green Hyundai to come blazing down the overgrown road. The sun was slowly setting below the distant treetops, bringing to a close one of the strangest days he could ever remember. The forest and surrounding land was bathed in a golden glow that had no right existing in a world so dark that the dead were permitted to wander the Earth. The further the yellow orb dipped down behind the tree line the colder the early evening grew and Daryl readjusted the poncho around his shoulders in response. The familiar scent of lemons filled the air and the hunter was instantly reminded of a certain woman who was still hadn't returned from the Woodbury run.

Ever since he'd found the star-speckled scrap of fabric in his cell Carol had been skirting around the edge of his mind all afternoon. Try as he might the redneck just couldn't figure why she insisted on taking care of him, but somewhere along the line when Carol had started showing an interest in the day-to-day occurrences of his life he'd started doing the same for her. It went deeper than just casual concern on his part, he knew that much at least. The hunter wasn't sure exactly when he'd appointed himself Carol's own personal guardian, but at some point he'd taken up the mantle without even realizing it. Not that she was a damsel in distress that needed saving or anything like that; time after time Daryl had witnessed her ability to hold her own against the new threats created by this Hell on Earth. Whether it was walkers or humans, the woman didn't need someone to hold her hand. He just…felt better knowing that she was doing okay.

It wasn't just the need to look out for her that always gnawed at the back of his mind now. For the first time since it was just him and Merle, Daryl felt the need to be in someone else's presence on a daily basis. He always sought her out now, regardless of the situation. It didn't matter if it was to check what supplies were dwindling before he left on a run or if he needed a hand skinning his latest kills, Carol was always the person he aimed to find. When they were in a room together he made sure to keep her in his sights. Lately the need to just be near her was overwhelming and before he knew where he was headed his feet had led him in her direction wherever the opportunity arose. He was sitting next to her at every council meeting and every mealtime that came around for Christ's sake. Like a puppy following its master, he was always trailing after that woman. It had even gotten to the point of him stopping by her cell in the dead of the night after his watch shift had ended to check on her. Three in the morning was never warm at the prison, no matter what you did to keep the chill at bay.

The first time he'd stopped to check on her two weeks ago he had found the woman curled up in a tight ball under her threadbare blanket, shivering in her sleep. His instinct had been to crawl into bed with her, wrap his arms around her shaking body and keep her warm with his own body heat, but just as quickly as the idea had popped into his head he'd dismissed it. It was survival 101 but there was something about the thought of joining her like that had unsettled him. Not that the idea had sounded terrible, but he knew she'd never want to wake up to find him sharing her bed. All her jokes aside, a good woman like her didn't need to be scared shitless by his ugly mug being the first thing she saw at the break of dawn.

The hunter had settled for retrieving his own prison-issue blanket and throwing that over her curled form. It didn't take long for Carol to stop shaking and return to a more restful, shiver-free sleep. He figured she needed the blanket more that he did anyway. His whole life Daryl had gone without; he'd spent lots of nights without a bed much less a blanket.

She's already gone through so much shit; if something as simple as a moth-holed blanket made her life more comfortable then he'd go to sleep freezing for the rest of his days.

Each night that followed he made it a habit to slip into her cell and check on her before he bunked down. She never called him out on it but Daryl had a sneaking suspicion the woman knew he'd been the one to look in on her because every morning since that first night he always received an extra spoonful of whatever she was serving up for breakfast. He still couldn't work out why he felt compelled to check on her before he bedded down for the evening; it wasn't like he ever strolled past Rick's cell and made sure he was tucked in tight or anything like that. But Carol was…different.

His thoughts about Carol were interrupted when he noticed the Hyundai break free from the surrounding tree line and draw closer to the prison. Looked like whoever was driving was trying to beat the rapidly disappearing sun before it set completely. It made sense to be back home at the prison before dark; last thing anyone wanted was to be stranded after dark with the dead wandering around out there.

He watched from his vantage point as Carl opened the gate and ushered the green vehicle through before any walkers lingering at the fences could shuffle through the new opening.

The inhabitants of the car piled out one by one, each wearing identical exhausted expressions. Daryl watched as the returning party was greeted by those closest to them. Hershel opened his arms to his daughter before catching Glenn's hand in what Daryl could see was a strong shake. Beth stood not far behind, balancing Judith on her hip as they waited in line for their turn. Carl raced over to Michonne from his previous position at the gate, smiling broadly when the warrior handed him what looked like a rolled up magazine. The kid had been reading comic books more and more now, so it was probably one of those Daryl guessed. Tyreese caught his sister in a bear hug, lifting the woman clear off her feet as she launched herself into his outstretched arms.

Nearly everyone down there got their own brand of Kodak moment. The only member of the group who hadn't received a personal welcoming committee was Carol. From his vantage point the hunter watched as she looked back and forth across the yard, her normally serene face etched with a worried expression. She was gnawing on her bottom lip and her forehead was wrinkled with a frown that had no place being there in his opinion.

The moment her eyes shifted up to the tower and found his the worry slid right away, instantly replaced by a look of sheer relief coupled with a subtle smile. Daryl nodded once in greeting then jerked his head to the side, silently inviting her to join him on watch. They were still a good distance away but his keen eyes were able to see her holding up her index finger and mouth the words 'One minute' in his direction. The woman turned towards the now-hugging Greene sisters, saying something to them that was too low to carry across the yard and up to his ears. He watched as Maggie squeezed Carol's shoulder once then sent an acknowledging wave up at the tower. With a soft smile on her face Carol turned away from the reunited family and made her way towards his vantage point.

The giggle that slipped out of Beth's mouth the moment Carol pointed over her shoulder at his location didn't escape Daryl though. The loud snort that had fallen from that girl's lips had been impossible to miss.

He'd bet dollars to doughnuts he knew exactly what the younger Greene was finding so damn amusing. His hand drifted to his back pocket, patting the garment hidden within.

Good thing someone was so damned amused by a pair of panties 'cause he sure as shit didn't see what was so funny about the situation.

For a second Daryl questioned his decision to carry the panties around in his back pocket instead of just stashing the underwear under the bunk in his cell. For the last few hours he'd been in a shitty mood courtesy of the cargo he was carrying, but at no point did it occur to him to lose the piece of fabric in his travels. Sure it would have been much simpler and saved him a shitload of stress had he just done that instead of holding onto the bright blue garment all day. There was something so…tacky about hiding a woman's underwear under his mattress like it was a dirty magazine. That was the sort of move Merle would have made. The asshole would have been proud to do it too; like it was a trophy he'd won. Daryl missed his brother, but he wasn't about to start displaying the more colourful character flaws of the deceased Dixon.

His thoughts about exactly why he hadn't just ditched the troublesome item were interrupted when Carol pushed open the hatch and made her way inside the tower. She dusted her hands off on the legs of her pants before offering him a brilliant smile and stepping out to join him on the walkway.

"I didn't know you had watch now," she remarked, taking a place next to him along the railing.

Daryl shrugged, casting a glance down at the handful of walkers scattered along the boundary fence. "Someone had to cover Glenn's shift. Figured this way I'd at least get some peace and quiet." After a day spent covertly trying to figure out the identity of the mystery Cinderella Daryl figured he'd earned the luxury of solitude for a few precious hours. "Any problems out there?" he asked, nodding to the land beyond the fences. Not that he'd been worried, but that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach was back, demanding to know what she faced out there.

The woman smiled gently and shook her head. "Everything went fine until we ran into a herd on the way back. Blocked off the road so much we had to double back and find another route. Didn't mean to worry you Pookie," she said, playfully bumping her hip against his own.

He dropped his head, struggling to hide the shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her calling him Pookie had been a recent thing. Carol knew him well enough to only be like that when it was just the two of them and he was grateful for her insight. That was Carol though; she understood him like no-one else had before.

No-one else had ever made him smile like that before either.

"I see you found your poncho," she said, catching a frayed edge between her fingers before letting her hand drop back down to her side.

"Found what was inside it too," he muttered under his breath, the smile sliding off his face as the words left his mouth.

"Hmm?" Carol murmured from her place beside him. She was too busy watching the snarling dead try unsuccessfully to reach for the living stashed securely inside the fences to notice his change of expression. "What'd you say?"

"Nothin'," he shook his head in an effort to dislodge the image of white stars on a blue background from his mind. "It's nothin'."

He let his eyes drift back to her instead, satisfied the few stragglers clawing at the wire didn't present a threat right at that moment. If hundreds of the fuckers started piling up against the mesh then they'd have something to worry about, but the fences were sturdy enough to hold the weight of a few geeks leaning on them for the mean time. Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to start bracing them with something just in case. Daryl made a mental note to bring that idea up at the next council meeting.

"How'd everything go here?" she queried, retuning the question. "Any trouble today?"

Any trouble? Any trouble! Words failed the hunter as he stared slack jawed at the woman by his side. It was a good thing she was too busy staring out into the rapidly darkening sky because otherwise she might have caught onto the fact his gaze had drifted over to land on her instead of staying on the walkers at the fence. If she only knew what trouble her laundry mix-up had caused him in already she wouldn't have asked that question. He had no idea how to start telling her what kind of trouble he'd had today.

She turned to face him once more, bumping his shoulder with her own. "What?" she asked with a playful smile. The moment she met his eyes the happy expression fell from her face. "Something happened today, didn't it? Did we lose someone?"

He shook his head and pushed off from the railing. "Nah, ain't that," he muttered. A feeling of shame filled him at the look of worry in her eyes. He hated being the one responsible for making her feel like that. She's spent so long convincing him he was a good man that he sometimes forgot the piece of shit he really was deep down.

It didn't matter how much time and effort she spent trying to tell him otherwise, Daryl knew he'd always be nothing more than a redneck asshole that only succeeded in screwing things up. He'd been too consumed with his own petty problem of harbouring a lost pair of panties that he hadn't considered the way him edging around the topic could be misconstrued. He really was a dumbass.

The hunter adjusted his crossbow on his shoulder and took a step closer to the doorway but a small hand flew out and caught his elbow, halting him dead in his tracks.

"Daryl," she said, angling her body so she stood between him and the escape hatch leading inside. "What happened today?" Her voice edged on pleading and again he hated himself for making her sound like that…so unlike the strong woman he knew she really was.

"It's nothin'," he shrugged, making a move to push past her.

"Don't give me that," she chided. The woman stood her ground, refusing to budge an inch. "Tell me. Please?"

Now he really felt like an ass. She thought whatever was bothering him was something serious when all it boiled down to was his inability to function like an adult around something as simple as a pair of women's underwear.

The thought of that goddamned scrap of fabric still in buried in the bottom of his back pocket brought a fresh wave of embarrassment which, judging from the heat he felt spreading up his neck and over his face, had manifested in the form of a severe blush. Not only did he have to tell Carol what he had found in his cell earlier that day, but he also had the added embarrassment of explaining why he had carried the panties around with him like some sort of pussy-crazed pervert.

Why hadn't he just dumped the underwear somewhere and made the damned things someone else's problem for the day? Fucking hindsight was always twenty/twenty.

The fingers wrapped around his elbow started rubbing small circles into his skin, serving to distract him from the momentary flash of embarrassment. The longer her hand worked the sensitive underside of his arm the more relaxed he felt, until finally he was sure the flush previously coloring his skin had staged a full retreat.

She had this way of making him feel totally relaxed and completely on edge all at the same time. He had no idea how she did it, but that was Carol. She was like home and an unexplored frontier all rolled into one.

The fingers massaging his skin were starting to untangle more than just the days' worth of pent-up tension. Daryl found himself wondering what could be so bad about telling her what was bugging him. She's probably giggle at his expense but the thought of her laughter didn't bother him like Beth's had. What could be so bad about explaining to her what he'd spent his day doing? It was Carol for Christ's sake! If he couldn't trust her then who could he trust?

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what kind of trouble he'd had all day long since first spying the bright blue fabric wedged in the neck of his poncho, but he wasn't willing to launch into the story out there in the open where the sound might travel down to prying ears in the yard. Like locusts swarming a field, the numbers downstairs had multiplied far beyond the welcoming committee assembled there earlier. There was no way he was going to relay his conversation with Beth with all those eavesdroppers down there. He did not need an audience.

"Not out here," he said finally, shifting his gaze downward at the people still milling about the yard.

As always, Carol understood exactly what he wasn't saying. The hand on his elbow slid down to rest on his palm. She took a step back, tugging him forward to follow in her wake. His feet followed the command before his brain registered what was going on yet again. He really had become like a well-trained dog on a leash when it came to her.

Daryl dutifully followed the woman as she led him into the privacy of the tower's inner room. Once they were both safely within the glass walls Carol closed the door, effectively leaving the outside world where it should be: outside. She leant back against the closed door and levelled a questioning look his way.

"What happened?" Carol's soft voice travelled across the small space. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Now that they were inside and away from the prying eyes and taunting giggles Daryl didn't know where to start. He glanced around the small room, searching the darkened corners as if they held the answer to his dilemma but the only thing his eyes landed on was an old beat-up card table pushed up against the far wall. A battery-powered camping lantern that had seen better days sat in the middle of the faded Formica top. For a second he considered taking a seat in one of the mismatched chairs pushed underneath, but sitting down seemed to make this whole thing seem so…formal. Like they were about to have a council meeting instead of him trying to tell her that he'd had a shitty day all thanks to the underwear he'd been carrying around.

He stomped over to the far corner and switched the lantern on. Golden light that mimicked the earlier sunset filled the surrounding area, bathing the enclosed space in a soft glow that wasn't normally present there after dark. Usually there wasn't a need for light inside the tower; any light would serve to blind whoever was outside on watch from any approaching dangers.

"Spent the better part of the afternoon chasing my tail over these," before his nerves got the better of him again Daryl snagged the panties out of his back pocket and tossed them down next to the lantern. In the soft light the bright blue looked almost black, but there was no denying what the bunched up fabric was. "Found 'em inside my poncho this afternoon," he clarified, catching the confused expression that overtook her face. As soon as Carol's eyes drifted down to land on the star-covered fabric Daryl felt the familiar burning sensation working up his neck again. At least the faint glow of the lantern wasn't strong enough for her to see he'd gone as red as a lobster. "Don't know who the hell they belong to-"

"I can help you with that," Carol interrupted. The woman confidently strode up to the table and cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as she examined the article of clothing on the dusty top. "They're mine," she said without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"What the hell you mean _they're yours_?" Daryl spluttered.

"They're mine," she repeated, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. "I used to love watching Wonder Woman on TV when I was younger. Maggie and I were talking about old TV shows once and the next day she came back from a run with these." The woman scooped up the panties and folded the fabric into a small square the size of her palm, her gaze focused on her hand. When she looked up at him again there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a teasing smile tugging on the corner of her mouth. "The stars glow in the dark too if you're interested…"

She left the offer hanging in the air, much like she did when it was the two of them on top that overturned bus their first night at the prison. His eyes automatically shot down to her palm. He hadn't meant to look but he couldn't stop himself. The stars he'd thought white were now a faint glowing yellow, standing in stark contrast against her hand. Quickly he averted his gaze, instead returning his eyes to the table top standing between them.

The entire time he'd been carrying around that cargo the possibility had never entered his mind that they belonged to_Carol_ of all people. He'd been too preoccupied going through the list of possible prison suspects to even entertain the thought that she would be the guilty party.

It dawned on him then; he'd been stomping around the prison all damn day with a pair of Carol's underwear wedged in his back pocket! Daryl was certain his entire body from top to toe would be bright red like he'd rolled in a patch of poison oak. Merle would have had a fucking field day if he was alive to see the mess Daryl had managed to land himself in now.

She had to be wrong. Maybe she was just covering for someone else so he wouldn't get too embarrassed about the whole situation. That was exactly the sort of thing Carol would do in a bid to take care of everyone. Those panties couldn't belong to _her_ of all people.

Those panties had been in the same pocket he kept his rag in…touching it all day long. That thought alone made his face flash brighter than a neon sign. God, he really had turned out to be some sort of pervert, just like his brother.

"Sorry for the trouble," she continued. "Must have got these mixed up with your laundry this morning." The woman slipped the folded garment into the front pocket of her cargos. "Simple mistake," she shrugged, clearly unfazed by the revelation that her unmentionables had been in his possession.

"_A simple mistake_?" he echoed, still trying to wrap his head around what the woman was telling him. His embarrassment was giving way to a new emotion: anger. He was mad as a cut snake and it was all due to a blue scrap of fabric that apparently belonged to the woman standing opposite. "You call your panties ended up in my cell a _simple mistake_?!"

"Why Daryl, you want my panties there on purpose?" she countered with a smirk.

He didn't think it was possible to be any more embarrassed but he'd been wrong. It felt like the fires of Hell were burning red-hot under every inch of his skin.

"No way in hell those things belong to you!" he argued, grasping for a reason why the underwear couldn't possibly belong to the woman standing before him. Yes, they'd all lost some weight courtesy of the hard life they lived now, but there was no way Carol's ass fit those panties. He'd been sure that based on the size they'd belonged to Beth or one of the children. At a stretch he'd believe that Maggie might have wiggled her way into them, but the possibly of Carol owning them never crossed his mind.

Carol arched an eyebrow, still smiling that teasing smile as the next words left her mouth. "And why is that?"

"Those tiny things are too small to fit your damn ass!" he bellowed, saying the first thing that came to mind.

The moment the words left his mouth Daryl knew he'd fucked up. On reflex he winced and took a step back from the table, distancing himself from what was surely to be an extremely angry woman who carried a gun and knuckleduster at all times. His previous experience with women was limited to a few drunken pick up's and one night stands but he knew enough to realize that you did not talk about the size of a woman's behind when she was in earshot. Ever. Women were touchy about that sort of shit.

_'__Way to go, dumbass,'_ Merle's taunting voice groaned inside his head.

Last thing he needed was commentary from that bastard.

Carol arched an eyebrow. "Too small?" she chuckled. "How would you know that unless you've had a good look at my behind?" The woman pushed her body away from the wall and sauntered across the room towards him.

Daryl felt like all the air in the tower had been sucked out instantly. Carol had a smirk on her lips and a predatory glint in her eyes. The teasing he'd come to expect, but the look she was levelling his way was something new.

The woman crossed the room quickly and sided up to the hunter, coming to a stop when they were merely a foot apart. She braced her hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer, letting her breath fan out over his ear. "Maybe it was the only way I could get my panties on the floor of your cell in the first place, ever think of that?" she whispered.

The woman didn't wait for a response. She walked past Daryl and made for the hatch leading downstairs.

He was speechless. If he even had to ability to speak he sure as shit didn't know where to start. Of all the things he expected her to say, of all the possible scenarios running through his mind at high speed, never in a million years did the redneck expect her to say _that._ He thought for sure she'd be pissed, but Carol had a knack for surprising him. She didn't even blink an eye.

She thought the damned situation was _funny!_

He underestimated her. Months ago he'd overheard her warning Merle not to underestimate her. Pity the younger Dixon didn't heed that advice.

All fucking day he'd been running around, making ass of himself trying to decode the mystery of who the hell owned the Wonder Woman underwear and it turned out they were hers?

Daryl found his gaze drifting southward to land on Carol's behind as she continued over to the only exit leading out of the tower: the hatch in the floor. For all the time he'd spent watching her this was the first time he'd let his gaze dip lower than her smile. He had to admit now that he was looking, Carol's ass was just about the size of the blue panties. Good shape too; the sort of ass that was just begging to be squeezed. He cocked his head to the left, studying the newfound attraction with more detail.

The fact her hips were still slowly swaying side to side as she moved didn't escape his attention either.

Carol knew he was looking. The new pronounced sway of her hips let him in on that. Maybe she always had that sway when she moved. It would certainly explain why he'd taken to following her around like a lost puppy. But now was the first time he was noticing it.

Daryl knew then it wouldn't be the last time he snuck a peek at her rear.

The redneck shook himself, breaking the trance her sashaying curves seemed to hold over him. He shouldn't be looking at Carol like that. She was too good of a woman for the likes of him. It didn't matter that her options were limited, he was not the man of honour she deserved.

The woman opened the hatch on the floor and proceeded to fold her body down through the square opening. Poised with only her head sticking out of the hole she smiled up at Daryl again. "See you at three," she grinned, winking before disappearing down the hatch and out of sight.

Oh that was it. That woman and her smart mouth had just talked herself out of any further visits. Making her freeze her ass off seemed like fair trade for him burning up with embarrassment all day long.

It took Daryl a moment to realize Carol had gotten the last word before she strolled out of the tower like there wasn't a problem in the world. He was not about to back down from her teasing ways; not this time. He'd dealt with too much shit today to just let that one slide. He crossed the tower in three large strides and flung the walkway door wide open. Even in the diminished light he could see she'd already made it down to the yard and was standing with the Greene family and Glenn.

Daryl stepped up to the railing and cupped his hands around his mouth. "CAROL!" He yelled, watching as her head swivelled, following the sound of his voice. He waited until her gaze was locked on him before continuing. "IF YOU WANTED TO GET YOUR PANTIES ON MY CELL FLOOR I COULD THINK OF A BETTER WAY O' DOING IT!"

Carol's mouth dropped open, making her look like one of those cheesy clown games at a carnival. Finally he'd managed to get one up on her. It felt good to have the upper hand for a change. Damn good.

A snort of laughter belonging to Beth cut through the still evening air, followed by Glenn's own loud cackle.

Without waiting for a reply Daryl strode back into the tower and slammed the door, confident he'd managed to get the last word for once. Giving her a dose of her own medicine felt extremely rewarding. No wonder she always made those cracks at his expense; the ability to render her speechless instead of vice-versa felt incredible. A sense of pride filled him as he replayed the scene over in his head.

It dawned on Daryl then exactly what he'd just screeched across the yard like some sort of redneck mating call. Too hell bent on getting the last word and wiping that all-knowing grin clear off her face he hadn't stopped to consider the weight of the words that left his mouth.

He'd bellowed loud enough for not only Carol, but the entire population of the prison inside and out to hear exactly what he said and who he said it to.

"Shit!" He collapsed into the nearby chair and dropped his head onto the tabletop. His problem with a pair of panties seemed like a walk in the park compared to the shitstorm sure to be heading his way now.

He was never going to live this down.

**A/N: Thank you all for persevering with me on this one. I know you all saw where this was heading, but the idea of Daryl wandering around with a pair of Carol's underwear tucked in his pocket all day just amused me to no end. This is my first complete Operation Levity offering. I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I certainly had fun with the idea a guy like Daryl could be scared of something as harmless as Wonder Woman briefs.**


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